


Nervous: a Peter x Ned One Shot

by jobasjedis



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gay Ned Leeds, Gay Peter Parker, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 03:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jobasjedis/pseuds/jobasjedis





	Nervous: a Peter x Ned One Shot

Peter stares at him from across the classroom, watching as he tells her a joke, a giant grin plastered to his perky face. Everything about him is so lively, from his hand motions to the sparkle in his cocoa eyes. 

His eyes.

Peter could take a bath in those eyes, a bath of warm hot chocolate, a bath so big it’s more like a swimming pool, and he would hold his breath and sink under, immersing himself entirely in the heat. 

Peter watches as he turns and catches his eye, giving him a kind smirk and waving. Peter, embarrassed at being caught, rips open his notebook and pretends to be writing something down, his pencil scribbling so hard the graphite tip breaks and smears gray powder across the page. A bubble catches in the back of his throat, a bubble one gets before they are about to cry, and Peter uses all his strength to swallow it. He runs a finger along the now broken edge of the pencil, and shakily stands. 

What’s so hard about this? He’s dove off thirty story buildings. He’s battled countless criminals. He’s trusted paper thin spider webs to carry his entire body weight as he flings himself through the air. 

But now he can’t muster the courage to walk the ten feet it would take to get to the pencil sharpener, just because his desk is along that route. 

He can feel the eyes of fellow classmates on him, probably wondering why he’s just standing there, a baby deer in the headlights of a semi truck. Even the teacher is gazing, peeking from above his newspaper, eyebrows furrowed. 

Peter takes a step, his shoes feeling heavy, as if they’re metal anchors dragging his feet to crash against the water that is gray linoleum. He puts his head down and repeats step by step, glancing at the sneakers of his peers for guidance. 

He knows them by heart. Charcoal Vans, fading to almost white in the spot where his big toe pushes up and rubs against the canvas. When he locks eyes with them his heart almost stops. Peter freezes in place. Slowly, as if he was tortoise stuck in tar, he lifts his head.

“Hey Peter.” 

That voice is smooth as silk against Peter’s eardrums. All the air escapes his lungs and he can’t find the strength to even mumble a hello in return. 

He gives Peter a puzzled look, and Peter can feel the heat rising in the back of his neck. The bell abruptly rings, ear splittingly loud, and Peter darts for the door, pushing it open with both hands and speed walking down the hallway.

He can hear the footsteps running after him, and as tears begin to stroll down his cheeks he doesn’t stop moving until he is outside, where he then collapses into the grass, his jeans becoming soggy at the knees from the mid morning dew. 

Peter’s ears twitch as they pick up the sound of the door opening behind him. A soft hand rests against his shoulder, and he doesn’t even need to look up. He knows it’s him.   

“Hey Peter,” the same voice utters again, softer this time than before. 

Peter sniffles, his cheeks sticky from tears and his nose dripping. 

He sits down beside him, his face now inches from Peter’s. Peter can feel his breath against his face, sending chills down his spine. That same soft hand reaches up and wipes a tear from the corner of Peter’s eye. 

“Peter, I know. It’s okay.” 

Peter spins his head to look at him, their eyes meeting. He opens his mouth to speak, but again, no words escape his lips. 

He just nods, and takes Peter’s arm, pulling up his jacket sleeve to reveal an N, written on his wrist in blue ink. Peter can feel himself blushing, sheepish. 

“Hey, look at this,” that soothing voice whispers, and he proceeds to pull up his own jacket sleeve. Right there, on his wrist, in red ink, is a letter P. “I saw you do that the other day. So I did it too.” 

Stunned, Peter’s eyes widen, unsure of what’s going on. 

“I know. I know that you secretly watch me in class, embarrassed whenever our eyes meet because you think I’ve caught you.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Truth is, I’m just trying to secretly watch you.” 

The wind picks up and blows their hair, tangled strands swaying against the crisp air. Peter holds out his hand and he takes it, their fingers intertwining. 

“I know Peter. And I feel it too.” 

Peter smiles, a giant weight lifting off his chest, and cheerful laughter escaping from deep inside. He starts to uncontrollably laugh, like a kid in a candy store, and wraps his arms around him, causing them to both fall over onto the turf. 

Peter lays there, arms wrapped around his neck and still giggling. He begins to chuckle as well, pent up happiness bursting at the seams. 

As their laughter dies down, he pulls a pen out of the pockets of his dark wash denim and pulls Peter’s sleeve up again. He draws something against Peter’s skin, and when he’s done, Peter picks up his arm to examine it. 

Peter smiles, finally letting a single word escape his lips. 

“Ned.” 


End file.
